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Monday, December 5, 2011

Indie Chicks - Linda Welch - Never Too Late

When I published the first two Whisperings paranormal
mystery novels, I created an icon to use on Facebook and Twitter. The picture
is of Whisperings lead character, Tiff Banks. It seemed a good way to advertise
my product at the time. But no matter how often I say she is not me, I am not a
tall, slim, blond young woman, many obviously don’t believe me. Response to the
avatar has amused me over the years. You wouldn’t believe the comments, compliments, and odd comments I think were meant as compliments. Many of
them were a hoot. I knew I’d eventually have to come out of the identity closet
and say, hey, look here, this is me, not the long-haired cutie.

Then Cheryl Shireman asked me to contribute
to the Indie Chicks anthology and also asked for a photo. This is the perfect opportunity
to set the record straight. If you want to know who Linda Welch really is, read on. . . .

NEVER
TOO LATE

I’m going to tell you something I don’t
think you know.

I haven’t been a “chick” for many a year. I’m
a couple of months shy of 61. I have been married to the same man for 39 years.
We have two sons and four grandchildren. And you thought I was a tall, slim young thing, didn’t you. I am what is
called a late bloomer and I’m writing this for other old biddies who had a
dream and let it pass them by, or think they are too busy, or it’s too late to
fulfill their dream. I don’t mean just writing, but any dreamed-of achievement
you hide in your heart.

I was born in a country cottage in England.
My father was a restless man, so we often moved and never had much money. I
remember days when only Dad had meat on his plate at dinner, but we never went
hungry. We had vegetables and fruit from the garden, eggs from the chickens. Times
were hard, but we children never knew that. We were loved. When Mum and Dad met
during World War II, Mum was a privately educated “well-bred” lady. I doubt I
will ever meet anyone as smart as my mother. At 88 years, she is still as sharp
as a tack. Dad was a countryman to the bone. He had many artistic talents he
didn’t pursue until later in life. When he did, he excelled at them. I like to
think some of their intelligence and talent rubbed off on me.

So much has changed, in my life, in the
world. I hold memories of my childhood close. I won’t let them fade. One day, I
will write about them.

I had a good basic education, first at a
village school, then an all-girls school, but I left at 15 (at that time the
legal age in England) and worked first as a telephone operator before I went
into office occupations. I did not see authorship in my future.

But I have always daydreamed. Often, I
recreated the same daydream multiple times, constantly elaborating. I did not realize I wrote books in my head.

I began writing words on paper in my
mid-forties, but it was a hobby. Somewhere along the way, I thought, Could I publish this? and then I’d like to publish. But I talked myself
out of it. Authors were young men and women who decided they wanted to write at
a young age and worked to improve their skill their entire life. They went to
college and university, they had degrees in writing, creative writing or
journalism. I was inexperienced; I didn’t have their dedication or education.
Anyway, I had a husband to support, children to raise and part-time jobs to
supplement the family income. I didn’t have time to write and send queries,
synopsis or sample chapters to agents.

In 2008 I discovered the Lulu publishing
platform and took the plunge. I published the space opera Mindbender and
science fiction Galen’s Gate. I subsequently unpublished them, with every
intention of revising and republishing. Some copies are still floating around
out there somewhere. However, Tiff Banks,
who had been swimming around in this murky thing I call a brain for several
years, chose to come out and play. She took over my life. She became my second
skin.

When I think back to why I did not publish
until in my fifties, I realize it had nothing to do with inexperience or lack
of education. I was not ready. I had to marry a dashing young American airman,
leave my homeland, raise two sons, spoil four grandchildren, live and work with
Americans and become entrenched in the way of life. I was not ready to write
Along Came a Demon until I came to the mountains of Utah, stood looking over my
mountain valley, and knew, “this is
it. This is where Tiff lives. She knows the bitter cold and snow of winter, the
harsh heat of summer. She knows her city and the people inside-out. This is
Tiff’s world, and now, I know who she is.”

Then the hard work began. My education was
strictly “King’s English.” I wrote formal letters, contracts and legal
documents at work. I had to take the starch out of my writing. Research didn’t
help. It seemed that each time I read an article or blog about word usage, in
particular overuse and what to avoid, the next book I read was a best-selling
novel by a best-selling author who broke those rules. And having decided to barge
into my life, Tiff was very positive about how she talks. She’s a born and bred
American, a slightly snarky, slang-wielding gal who speaks to the reader on a
personal level, individual to individual. I had to use a style that practically
screamed “you can’t do that!” in my ear every other sentence.

I published the first Whisperings novel for another reason: Nobody seemed to believe in
my writing. Not friends, relatives, friendly acquaintances. I think they
supposed a 58-year-old with no education in the literary field, who suddenly came
out of the woodwork and decided to publish, must be a “vanity publisher” who
wanted to force poorly-written books on readers. When I said I wrote fiction, I
got blank looks, followed by, “that’s nice. Now, as I was saying. . .” Nobody wanted to read my work, not even my sweet
husband. But he enjoyed urban fantasy and I thought he’d like Tiff Banks. So in a way, I also
published for him.

I published Along Came a Demon in November 2008. It was supposed to be a
stand-alone novella, but readers wanted more and Tiff obliged. Along Came a Demon became book one of
the Whisperings series of paranormal mysteries. I published the sequel, The Demon Hunters, in November 2009. In
2010 I added material to Along Came a
Demon to make it a full-length book and at the same time made small changes
to The Demon Hunters to reflect those
in Along Came a Demon. I published
book three, Dead Demon Walking, in
March 2011. Being a wordsmith, I should be able to express my joy each time a
reader tells me they love my books, but it truly is beyond my powers of
description. Now, when someone asks me what I do for a living, instead of telling
them I am a part-time administrative assistant and adding (hesitantly) “I also
write fiction,” I say I am an author. When I fill out a form that asks for my
occupation, I proudly write “author” in the little box.

Mary Wesley published Jumping the Queue at age 70 and went on to write ten best sellers
until she died twenty years later.

Harriett Doerr was 74 when she published The Stones of Ibarra.

Laura Ingalls Wilder published her Little House on the Prairie series when
she was in her 50s.

Mary Lawson was 55 when Crow Lake was published.

Flora Thompson is famous for her
semi-autobiography Lark Rise to
Candleford, published when she was 63.

Age is irrelevant. You are never too old.
For anything.

This is
one story from Indie Chicks: 25 Women 25 Personal Stories available on Amazon
and Barnes
& Noble. To read all of the stories, buy your copy today.
Also included are sneak peeks into 25 novels!
All proceeds go to Susan G. Komen for the Cure.